Never an Albatross! Bempton Cliffs, 4th July 2020

When I played golf, I had plenty of birdies, a couple of eagles but never an albatross. Since taking up birding I have seen plenty of Birdies (obviously), quite a few Eagles but never an Albatross. 

A birder walking along the cliffs at Bempton on Thursday was astounded to find a Black-browed Albatross resting on a cliff face in amongst some of the thousands of Gannets that make the area their summer home and breeding grounds. The Albatross spent much of the day flying along the cliffs, resting and even trying to make out with some of the Gannets before flying out to sea and disappearing. On Friday, to the delight of many twitchers, the Albatross returned to the cliffs and did another couple of flypasts before seemingly settling on the cliffs again. It wasn't seen to fly back out to sea. This Black-browed Albatross, a southern hemisphere and ocean species has been wandering around the North Sea for a few years, it has been seen along the East coast of Britain before and spends a lot of its time off the coast of Northwest Germany and Denmark. Neither is it the first Black-browed Albatross to spend time in the seas around the UK. There was a very famous bird, named Albert Ross (of course), that summered in company with Gannets at Sula Sgeir, a remote island about 30 miles north of the Outer Hebrides, between 2005-2007.

Black-browed Albatross, above and top, courtesy of Richard Willison

We had been planning a trip to the RSPB reserve at Bempton Cliffs anyway, because we had missed out on our usual May and June trips to Northumberland and Scotland meaning that we had a paucity of seabirds on our year list. The added chance of seeing the Black-browed Albatross had me bringing those plans forward by a week or two and we drove the 200 miles north on Saturday morning. Even if the Albatross didn't show we'd have the consolation of seeing the Gannets and other cliff nesting seabirds at close quarters, none of which are encountered in Oxfordshire very often, if ever.

The carpark was absolutely rammed when we arrived at half past nine after the trouble free drive, but I managed to wedge our car in between a minibus and a big SUV and then prise myself out of the car door. I just preyed that my neighbouring drivers were as careful opening their own doors as I was mine, and hopefully were no fatter than I am! I walked away imagining a tannoy announcement, "Will the driver of.....please return to their car.....so that a really fat bloke can get into his!"

Bempton Cliffs is rightly famous for its seabird cliffs but there are other birds to be seen in and around the reserve. It is an excellent place to see Tree Sparrows since there is a thriving colony around the visitor centre with many pairs using both the nest boxes provided but also nesting under the roof tiles. By early July there are also many young fledglings and I stopped to photograph a few on the way to the cliffs.

Tree Sparrows, adult top & juveniles centre and bottom

Many scarce migrant birds are seen annually at Bempton in the scrubby areas, we visited in September a couple of years ago and were treated to no fewer than three Yellow-browed Warblers (plus a Red-breasted Flycatcher just down the road at Flamborough). The viewing points dotted along the cliff edge were all full of birders, like us all eagerly waiting for the Black-browed Albatross to come sailing past. I eavesdropped on a few conversations, some people had been present on site since four o'clock that morning but there had been no sign of the star bird. Over the past two days the Albatross had shown around eleven o'clock so I was, at that point, still hopeful that it would suddenly appear. Some other birders were convinced that the Albatross was still resting on an unseen part of the cliff face.

I scanned various parts of the cliffs that I could see from the spot that we'd managed to claim, social distancing was loosely being adhered to by most but I feared at what would happen should the Albatross fly past the viewpoint. Some people just seem unable to do what they are required to whatever the circumstances. At Bempton you are at the top of the cliffs and most of the bird activity takes place below so that you have a lofty overview of the proceedings. Seabirds of various guises are everywhere. Some just rest on the cliffs, others are incubating eggs on their rudimentary and precarious nests on the rock ledges, or just the ledges in the case of the Auks. Quite a few were tending to nestlings, some were being fed while others were being brooded. Thousands of birds are continually flying about the cliffs, some returning from fishing trips, others venturing out on one and more just riding the updrafts and moseying around. Plus there were many more thousands sat on the sea at the base of the cliffs some several hundred feet below. It is a great place to experience the sight, sound and smell of the seabird colonies that stretch for miles in both directions. The birds choose to be here because they are relatively safe on the cliffs owing to the sheer drop to the rocks and sea below deterring land based predators and their only real concerns are other seabirds such as large Gulls and Skuas, and the odd storm that comes their way. The huge number of birds is overwhelming.

A small part of the cliffs

After taking in the ambience, I began picking out some of the birds to photograph while waiting for the Black-browed Albatross to reward our enthusiasm with that memorable flypast that so many had enjoyed the day before. The occupation of the cliffs is generally ordered, Shags nest at the bottom, in the sea caves and bigger rocks just above the high tide mark. Gannets also generally require the wider ledges found lower down. Further up the cliff you find bands of Kittiwakes, and on the narrower shelves, Guillemots and Razorbills that make no nest and incubate their single eggs directly on the rock. At the top in the soft earthy layer are the Puffins that nest in burrows. Razorbills are favourites of mine, I find their stern looking faces with the chunky bills, beady eye and catching white eye stripe futuristic looking. I snapped a couple that were stood on ledges close by.

Razorbill

In my opinion there are better places to go to watch and photograph seabirds, the Farne Islands off the coast of Northumberland offer wonderful opportunities to see seabirds, especially Puffins and Terns, but are very popular with visitors of all types and also expensive to visit, after all the islands are managed by the National Trust (say no more). Handa Island off the coast of North-west Scotland is a brilliant place and offers up breeding Great and Arctic Skuas as well as the other seabird species and much more. No holiday to Scotland in the summer is complete without an excursion to Handa. For mainland based seabird watching though, Bempton Cliffs is as good as it gets. There are other birds besides seabirds too. Lots of Feral Pigeons, ancestors of the Rock Dove that can still be found in the north of Scotland including Handa, were busy feeding at the top of the cliff. Jackdaws too, nest on the cliffs and several were scouring the cliff tops for food. Peregrines are present although on this visit apart from one very quick fly past, they stayed well away.

Feral "Rock" Dove

Jackdaw

Kittiwakes are plentiful at Bempton, although, in keeping with many other species, globally are in trouble. It is thought that depleting fish stocks in the seas is responsible for the drop in numbers. Kittiwakes are noisy and gregarious birds and their constant raucous onomatopoeic calls provide the background sounds to the cliffs. Many of the Kittiwakes were already tending chicks in their basic nests composed of straw and guano, the waste product of all seabirds that supplies the cliffs with the unforgettable odour of a seabird colony. Some of the Kittiwake nests contained two chicks, most of the seabird species only lay one egg and raise one chick, showing an advantage of having an actual nest to lay eggs in.

Kittiwakes

With no sign of the Black-browed Albatross, I scanned the cliffs more carefully for some subjects to study. I find that no static photograph does justice to the seabird cliffs as a whole. The cliffs are too big to get into a single frame and close ups of groups don't capture the scene. To appreciate the seabird colony as a whole you have to visit and see, hear and smell it for yourself. I found a Puffin, our first of the year, asleep in a cleft on the rock face opposite the viewpoint. Not the best view I've ever had of Puffins and certainly not the best photo I've taken either but I was struck at how peaceful the bird appeared at rest while all around it chaos ensued. 

Puffin

In fact many of the birds were grabbing forty winks or resting up after fishing sorties. In one Kittiwake nest two chicks slumbered while its parents also dozed at the nest edge. A little further around the cliff, a pair of Fulmar preened while taking some time out and higher up the cliff on an isolated ledge, barely bigger than itself, another Fulmar sat untroubled by all that was going on around it.

Kittiwake family

Fulmar

I watched a Guillemot fly in and land next to its mate. The incomer was initially given the cold shoulder since the other shunned it but then it turned around and let forth a volley of guttural calls and appeared to be scolding the other, to the tune of something like, "Where's the bloody fish?!", "Get back out there and get dinner!" and "Don't come back again until you've caught one next time". Tough love (hah, oxymoron!) amongst the Guillemots.

Guillemot love

A Kittiwake lower down the cliff seemed less than pleased with its own egg which had yet to hatch. I was enjoying myself anthropomorphising now, "When are you going to join all the other Kitten-awakes then?", "Come on, let's be having you!"

Up until then I had largely ignored the Gannets, well difficult to ignore exactly because they were everywhere you looked, but I knew that I had as long as the time that I stayed at the cliffs to watch and photograph them. Besides I've taken loads of images of Gannets before. Eventually though I couldn't resist and spotted one carrying a beak full of seaweed. I took some shots as it passed by the viewpoint and then more when it landed on the cliff opposite and presented its mate with the gift which was met with a look of bemusement and maybe, "Junior needs fish, not bloody Rabbit food!".

Gannet

A murmur among some of our fellow watchers at the viewpoint attracted my attention. Did they have the Albatross? If they did then it had managed to sneak in and land on the cliff top without me and most of the assembled noticing anything. Of course it hadn't, the fuss was created by a Weasel that was scurrying about on the cliff top, disappearing into small holes before appearing out of others a few feet away. Weasels do everything at full tilt and it was a job to keep up with it. I found myself a small window through arms, legs and bodies to get a better view. I had never been so close to a Weasel before, it was only a few metres away from where I knelt peering through the fence. For their diminutive size they are formidable predators, both quick and ferocious, and I feared for any small vole or similar that might be down one of the burrows. I also wondered whether Weasels find and catch Puffins or Puffling's in their nesting burrows. 

Weasel

The Weasel ran off over the crest of a ridge and out of view so I returned to Mrs Caley and told her what she'd missed and was greeted with, "Oww, I'd liked to have seen that myself" and, "Thanks for nothing". Trying not to make eye contact I gazed at some of the birds flying around below us, still hoping that the Albatross would fly into view. I took photos of a Fulmar and one of the noisy Kittiwakes but I felt as guilty as hell for not getting my wife a look at the Weasel.

Fulmar

Kittiwake

I was saved though when the Weasel reappeared again and this time I beckoned Mrs Caley over to join in the spectacle. Thankfully the Weasel was very obliging once again and if anything was even more industrious and looked even more fierce than before.  Perhaps it was getting hungrier with the effort it was expending in rampaging through the burrows. Although having said that when it stood among the daisy flowers then it just looked so cute!

Another overheard conversation alerted me to the fact that a Long-eared Owl had been seen hunting out in daylight, presumably while we had been stood gazing out to sea, in the field behind where we had parked the car! Although it was risky to leave the viewpoint and the general overview of the sea in case the Albatross appeared, the chance of seeing a Long-eared Owl couldn't be passed up so we walked the couple of hundred of metres towards where a few people were looking away from the sea (a big clue in itself) and at the field in question. My inquiry as to whether the Owl had been showing though was met with a negative response, none of those stood there in expectation had seen it and one couple had been stood there for over two hours, so the news must have been very old news (hah, another oxymoron) indeed! Still we gave it a few minutes before heading to a quieter spot to munch on my delicious homemade sandwiches for lunch.

From the next viewpoint, they all have names but I neglected to take note of what they were, we had a better panorama of a busy section of the cliffs. We were now right in the thick of the Gannet colony, I believe the largest mainland congregation of its kind anywhere in the world, and the huge torpedo shaped birds were milling about everywhere. Time then to indulge and take a few photos. I also wanted to test my skills with my still relatively new camera set up, so concentrated on taking photos of flying birds that had the cliffs rather than clear sky as a backdrop. I quickly learned that using a block of nine autofocus points wasn't going to work, so changed to just a single point which focussed clearly and solely on the Gannet that I tracked leading to much better results. Who ever said that I'm not a photographer? Oh, it was me, wasn't it. Mind you I am still very much in the amateur ranks I think.

We headed further south along the cliff path, keeping one eye to the sea just in case, and finally found some Gannets at very close quarters. When we last visited Bempton the birds would use the updrafts to skim the very top of the cliffs but today, for some reason, they mostly seemed to be flying lower and rarely crested the tops so we couldn't get clear views of them without craning our necks over the cliff edge, which of course is thankfully protected by a fence for the safety of visitors. Not that that stopped a few foolhardy idiots who had climbed the fence to stand right at the cliff edge, oblivious to the fact that there was a drop of several hundred metres awaiting them should they put a foot wrong. I looked away from them while muttering expletives. Luckily for us, a couple of the Gannets did decide to give us a show.

We arrived at the viewpoint where the Black-browed Albatross had first been seen, again I've forgotten the name of it. Since our last visit to the cliffs here, the RSPB have built several wooden structures right at the edge of the cliffs that give the birder commanding views of the cliffs and open sea. This particular viewpoint was empty, many twitchers had already left for home since it was clear that the Albatross had departed, so we were able to enjoy the Gannets and other birds at leisure. There were more Puffins flying in and out of the cliffs here but all stayed well below our standpoint.

I studied the part of the cliff where the Albatross had made landfall a couple of days before, and tried really hard to turn one of the multitude of Gannets into it but of course, with me not possessing any wizard type qualities, that was impossible. I decided to follow and photograph the sub-adult Gannets, a few of which were spiralling around within the aerial whirlpool of birds. Gannets do not gain their pristine white plumage until their fifth year. Juveniles are completely dark grey and black. By the second year a few of the white feathers begin to appear but the head is still dusky grey. In the third year Gannets attain their yellow heads but still have much black feathering on the back and in the wings but. In their fourth year of life they are pretty much decked out in full adult plumage, except for a few black markings to the rear edges of the wings. I found a third year bird which was making repeated passes of our position.

An adult Gannet suddenly landed right in front of us, no more than a few metres away at the cliff top edge where it began pulling up lumps of grass, presumably to decorate its nest way below on the cliffs. It was close enough to hear the grass being tugged out of the ground, almost sounding like the noise when a hungry herbivore munches on short turf. It was so close to us that I could only get the birds head in the frame. To be able to look directly into a Gannets eye is indeed a thrill, and remember that these are not small birds either, a Gannet is way bigger than most of our birds of prey such as Buzzards and Kites and have wing spans to equal that of Golden Eagles. Despite their size and that impressive fish spearing bill, Gannets have a kind and gentle look to them.

We had been at Bempton Cliffs for five hours and with the prospect of the long drive home and no sightings of the Black-browed Albatross anywhere along the east coast all day it was time to give up and head home. On the way back to the car we had a last look out to sea and watched a pair of Gannets cavort around a grassy patch at the top of cliffs. 

It was a shame that we hadn't been lucky enough to connect with the Albatross, which had clearly managed to escape the attention of many watchers and had sneaked back out to sea the day before. But like I said at the start of this piece, Bempton Cliffs will always provide a good days birding anyway, we had added six species to our year list, Rock Pipit as well as the seabirds, and went home happy enough. There will be another chance to see the Black-browed Albatross and it will probably be sooner rather than later.

Herring Gull

My thanks to Richard Wilson for allowing me to use his excellent photos of the Black-browed Albatross.

Black-browed Albatross, courtesy of Richard Willison